


Frigid Love

by TheNobodyofaSOLDIER



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anthropomorphic, Anxiety, Christmas, Drunken Shenanigans, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Stress Relief, paralyzed character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-24 02:28:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30065265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNobodyofaSOLDIER/pseuds/TheNobodyofaSOLDIER
Summary: One shots for "Yuri on Ice!"
Relationships: Jean-Jacques Leroy/Reader, Katsuki Yuuri/Reader, Phichit Chulanont/Reader, Victor Nikiforov/Reader
Kudos: 1





	1. Heaven

[Viktor x OCD!Reader]

One smooth stride, and she glides across the glittering stage. A cold breeze playfully bites at her cheeks, leaving a rosy hue to her skin, and glassy trees sway to the rhythm of her steady pace. Sparkling snowflakes join her in her dance. They flit and float about her like little, white fairies playing in the winter morning and land gingerly in her lashes, on her hair, on her clothes. Peaking behind the thick curtain of clouds, the ever glowing rays of the smiling sun surrounds her in its warmth, serving as her spotlight, a small reminder that she plays the leading role here. 

This is her moment.

This is her time to shine.

Slow strides, a small spin, the metal of her skates glimmer with each movement. The ice scrapes beneath her feet, leaving flecks of powder in her wake. Her body moves with the wind, with the bending of the branches. Eyes closed, she feels her skin prickle at the cold fingers of the winter air carrying her over the vast, frozen lake.

The farther she skates, the more the black void behind her diminishes and sinks behind the horizon.

The once frantic beating rattling within her quivering chest slows into a soothing pulse. Her once sporadic whirlwind of thoughts dwindles to calm, even waves, gracing the shores of her mind. Her breaths, long and heated, exude from her lips as a thin mist.

With each glide, so she wanders deeper into the winter paradise and further away from the darkness once plaguing her. 

Warm, soft fingers gently curl around her own, and a hand rests in the curl of her hip. Her mouth curves into a smile as she feels his chest press into her back as he guides her across the frosty plains. Shimmering like the finest silver beneath the winter light, his silky hair brushes against her flushed cheeks as his lips skim over the shell of her ear. 

“Steady,” he whispers. 

In response, she inhales the crisp air, letting it sting down her throat. 

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he assures, matching his skating with hers, matching his breathing with hers. 

She trusts him. She knows he’s right.

There’s nothing to be afraid of anymore.

At last, the darkness is snuffed away, and only the light remains. 

Finally, it truly feels like heaven...

_Light..._

_So much light..._

_Ugh, too much light..._

Her pupils literally ache as the overly optimistic sun invades her bedroom like a child ecstatic for Christmas morning, causing them to shrink in agony. With a groan, she flips to the other side, and she lifts the comforter over her face. Her body is still so warm and relaxed. Perhaps she could find that stupor once again and return to that absolutely divine dream.

Closing her eyes once again, she exhales long and slow, envisaging that snowy scene. 

_The sun. The trees. The frozen lake. The-_

A low moan rumbles her ear drum as a warm, heavy mass literally crushes her body beneath it. 

So much for extra sleep...

Worming her arm out from beneath its torture, she proceeds to beat the wall of muscle suffocating her. 

“Viktor,” she wheezes. “You’re...I...can’t...breathe...”

In response, he simply rests his head atop her face. 

“Viktor-!”

“Hurrrmmm, _prosti_....”

“Then,” she coughs. “gitoffmeyoubiglug.”

She narrows her eyes, for she can see the mischievous smirk planted on his lips. Continuing his facade, he yawns loudly and obnoxiously, crossing his arms over her face and triggering her to yelp. 

“Cooooommfyyyy,” he mumbles, and he rests his cheek on his arm. 

With another cough, she grumbles into his forearm,

“ _Mudak_...”

“Hey, that’s not very lady-like,” he says. Inching off her form, he plants his chin at the center of her chest, crystal, blue eyes locked with hers. 

After sticking out her bottom lip in an exaggerated pout, she whines,

“But, I was sleeeeping, Viktor! I was having such a good dream.” 

He flashes her a wink and plants a kiss at the base of her throat.

“I know,” he says. “I was getting a little jealous.”

Before she can reply, he ever so lightly traces his finger across her bottom lip. He stops at the still swollen, redden mark on the corner of her mouth. He has seen the abuse to this sensitive skin many a time when she plundered through panic and anxiety attacks. 

Hopefully now, he would see less of that. 

He feels her body grow limp beneath him, and she closes her eyes at his gentle examination. With a quiet chuckle, he drags his thumb over the sunken skin beneath her eyes, still a little puffy and purple from excessive tears being shed. Despite this physical sign of the monsters she struggled once so endlessly with, he sees nothing but peace in her slightly parted lips, no  
crinkling in her skin from the clenching of her muscles, the air from her nostrils very slowly warming his hand, indicating her slow breathing. 

How relieving it is to finally see the result of her pain and work.

With a little smile, he kisses her with a touch lighter than a butterfly’s wing. He hears a faint chuckle bubble in her throat, and she rubs her nose against his.

“What did you dream about then?” he asks, still lining her face with his fingertip. 

“Hmm,” she wrinkles her nose in thought as she ponders her answer. “I dreamt about heaven.”

“Oh?” he tilts his head. “And what does heaven look like to you?”

Once more, she falls silent. Her eyes glaze as they peer inwardly into her dream world. 

As magical, as peaceful, and as perfect as everything seemed within that realm, there is one piece to the puzzle, the seed to her ever growing strength, the key to her divine gate.

As she looks into his ice blue eyes, she slips her arms around his waist and presses her cheek into his chest: the vibrating of his heartbeat, the scent of his soap and shampoo, his strong arms draped around her shoulders.

“Here,” she tells him. “Heaven is here.”

He blinks in surprise, allowing her statement to process. 

The notion of him being so regarded, so cherished, seems almost silly.

After all, who wouldn’t give anything for the one they loved?

Placing soft kisses onto her forehead, he mutters, rubbing the tip of his nose across her brow,

“Heaven. Here. I like that.”

One smooth stride, and they glide across the glittering stage into the light beyond the horizon.

_”Steady now.”_

_”There’s nothing to be afraid of.”_

_This is heaven..._


	2. Solace

[Viktor x Paralyzed!Reader]

Never did you ever expect to feel something so sickening towards someone you claimed to love so dearly, the seething discontent and longing aroused by something he possessed, something ruthlessly stolen from you at such a pivotal time in life:

_envy._

Watching Viktor Nikiforov skate brought such a sense of peace to your heart at its most distressed. His limbs moved with such fluidity and grace. It resembled the flow of a river winding through a crisp; a white forest, traveling beyond the horizon; perhaps the slow, swinging of an eagle’s wings as it glides through a clear, open sky; or even the rhythmic waves of the ocean as it rolls carelessly onto the shore only to return to their colossal master.

Yet, the pinch in your chest refused to dissipate the longer you observed him. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you lowered your gaze to your legs, nothing more than useless appendages glued to the socket of your pelvic bone. 

_Why..._

_Why did it have to be this way?_

Viktor possessed the natural elegance and poise to become a skater beloved by Russia. You possessed the drive and passion to work until the inside of your skaters were moist with sweat and blood, tiny reminders of the effort you poured into your work. Out on the rink, the audience never existed to you. The droning voices of the score keeper drifted into silence until only your music carried you into the scene of your imagination. Whatever worries you carried with you, whatever stress you endured, nothing mattered once your skates made contact with the ice. 

To you, the ice was peace. 

To you, the ice was home.

Swallowing the painful lump in your throat, tiny tear droplets trickled down the contours of your cheeks. 

No, you couldn’t let Viktor see you like this. 

You meticulously constructed the perfect disguise to conceal the hurt, the burden you carried, to avert his attention from the disarray within your aching heart. As Russia’s top skater, already did he shoulder high expectations of fans, of friends, of peers. While he frequently expressed concern for you, you simply put on a smile, assured him of your wellbeing, and cheered him on to the best of your ability. 

The demons inside you would only stay silent for so long...

_Why..._

You could have been out there with him, practicing routines, laughing at each other’s antics, sharing the joy that came with skating. 

_You should have been paying attention._

The memory replayed in your mind like a broken film: the sweat coating your palms as you gripped the steering wheel, the rain beating against your windshield, the fog in your mind as your lids fought against the violent push of sleep. 

Bright lights. 

The blast of the car horn.

Pieces of glass sparkling in the headlights as they grazed your cheeks.

The airbag crushing your ribs.

And all was black.

You tugged your hair.

_Such an idiot..._

“It’s all my fault,” you muttered under your breath. “It’s all my fucking fault...”

“What did you think of that, my love?” 

Immediately, you snapped from your self loathing trance. 

“Ah, Viktor! I-I-uh-” you cleared your throat in attempt to gather words to formulate some pathetic excuse, anything to keep your illusion. 

His pale brows furrowed upon approaching you.

“ _Malyshka,_ you weren’t really watching! You-!”

Suddenly, his words faded, and your eyes locked. You licked your chapped lips in hopes that maybe....maybe he couldn’t-

“What’s wrong?”

_Damn it..._

“Darling,” he quickly took to his knees and clasped your hands between his. “What’s going on?”

Forcing out a tired laugh, you wiped the moist streaks from your face with the sleeve of your sweater. 

“It’s nothing,” you assured, “Just got a little emotional.” 

Brushing a few strands of silver hair from his eyes, Viktor examined the scars decorating your legs. 

He knew.

He always knew.

Despite owning his icy stage, despite being the walking definition of grace, he fumbled and tripped more than a drunkard on the path to emotional restoration. Hell, he was never sure how to deal with his own aside from shoving them down until numbness took over. 

But, you? The love of his life? One that he claimed to love and care for more than himself?

What a disgrace...

He dragged his thumb over the back of your hand, allowing the silence to tense further. 

_No good..._

_Think, Viktor, think..._

“Hey,” he whispered with a gentle smile. 

You simply glanced up at him as a reply. 

However, much to your surprise, he took your arms and wrapped them around his neck.

“What? Viktor? What are you doing?” 

With only a lilting laugh as a reply, he lifted your legs delicately from the ground and carried you to the entrance of the rink. Your heart began to race, and blood rushed to your cheeks. 

Before you were allowed to speak, he propelled himself onto the ice, taking you with him.

“Viktor! Be careful!” you yelped. 

He released a hearty chuckle.

“What? It’s not like I haven’t done this with you before,” he replied, increasing his pace. 

You gulped and clung to him tighter. 

“Ah-ah-!”

Suddenly, you felt the palm of his hand run up and down the space between your shoulder blades. 

“Don’t worry,” his warm breath tickled your ear. “Just pretend my legs are yours.”

You raised an eyebrow, and your mind derailed for a moment.

“....Huh?”

The angelic smile still painted on his lips, he simply stated,

“Just close your eyes.”

A little hesitant, you responded accordingly, resting your cheek against his shoulder. 

The metal of Viktor’s skates scraped against the ice, imprinting white designs into its surface, just as an artist might with a pencil to his sketch book. The air pricked at your cheeks with frosted fingertips as he continued to glide. His movements were slow, gradual, as if he were rocking you to sleep. You sensed the warmth radiating off his skin, the pulse thumping in his neck, his steady breathing. 

Just this moment alone was enough to fill your heart with the cheer it so desperately needed.

Through your mind's eye, with the help of Viktor, you could see yourself on that stage again and recall those glorious days when you held the audience in the palm of your hand. You could feel the sense of serenity and delight overwhelming you when those blades met the ice, the warmth of the spotlight as it shown on you. 

Your fingers curled within the fabric of his black sweater as these happy moments finally took the place of the repetitive, cruel reminder of the reality you now had to face.

While Viktor may have been no master with his words, this alone was enough to bring comfort to your frantic, adjusting mind. 

During this time, it meant absolutely everything to you.

He smiled upon seeing the contentment on your face. Without uttering a word, he continued to skate with you nestled in his arms, close to his form. 

If solace to you meant being at his side--no fancy words, no gifts, no dramatic confessions, no over the top, romantic gesture--

that was perfectly fine with him.


	3. Chimney Visit

[Viktor x Reader]

Christmas was the time of year Viktor Nikiforov shined most. In Mother Russia, the clouds covered the streets in thick blankets of snow, lights sparkled around every corner and in every neighborhood, and music of joy hung in the air. With a spirit as light as Viktor’s, there was no way he could resist the seductive pull of Christmas. 

Gazing into his mirror, he brushed aside his silver hair, scanning his attire: red, velvet coat, hat, and pants, jet black boots, white trim.

Yes, this was perfect.

After all, it was Christmas Eve, and he was determined to give you the surprise of your life. While you were already a little suspicious by his only slightly subtly phone message of "don't go to sleep yet I totally don't have a surprise for you," you couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm and decided to humor him.

Sneaking onto the snowy streets of this silent night, the white powder crunched beneath Viktor's feet as he wandered through the festively glowing neighborhood. 

His heart hummed with the spirit of the season.

Upon reaching the door of his beloved, he fumbled with his keys, giggling in a drunken stupor. While he may have had one too many shots of vodka, he was determined to make this special. He tip toed through the dark house, mind foggy and spinning. Finally, he reached the door handle of your bedroom door and creaked it open. 

There lay her sleeping form. Ah, how cute you looked when you slept, wrapped up like a burrito. 

Creeping to your beside, Viktor slowly pulled down the covers and muttered in your ear, 

“Merry Christmas, princess,” and immediately, he slid into her bed.

“VIKTOR?! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!”

The sound of a fist meeting ferociously with Viktor’s mandible shattered the peaceful atmosphere. 

In his intoxicated state, he innocently wandered into his coach’s home.

Luckily, he regained consciousness, but you weren't too happy driving to the hospital at 4 AM Christmas morning.


	4. Anthropomorphism

[Viktor x Reader]

Viktor was a little bit suspicious of how much Makkachin had been barking at him all evening. He had done everything he could to demonstrate his fatherly affections toward her. Viktor seemed to be quite a patient person in these regards, if not having a tremendous tendency to spoil the baby. Now, he struggled with tending to her needs. She was fed, bathed, wrapped in a warm blanket, plastered to his side: what more was there to life? If anything, he thought he could try talking things out with her. Maybe that would help...maybe.

"Makkachin? Baby girl? Is something the matter?" he stroked her silky ears.

She turned her face to his and yipped softly.

"You know, you can tell me anything," he tilted his head and smiled. "I can keep all your secrets. No questions asked."

She yipped and yapped about who knows what, trying to keep his hand close to her. She did seem unusually affectionate, which is something he would hesitate to think. Considering how close they already were, how would she ever beg for more?

He pondered the time he and Yuuri had left for their competition. He was so stricken with terror that she had actually swallowed some steamed buns whole. Perhaps she was exhibiting some jealousy and had to take drastic measures to get him back. Nonetheless….these sounded more like the acts of a jealous lover. Maybe he was taking his anthropomorphism too far...

"Makkachin….," he furrowed his brows. "Sometimes…..I think you're in love with me," Viktor continued stroking her head, "Sometimes…I think you're the only woman who can stay true to me. So, I guess we're even. How does that feel?"

_Viktor….I have always wanted to hear you say that….PLEASE keep petting me like that._

"It's a freezing night tonight. Maybe we should sleep together again. Would you like that?"

_Do you even have to ask?! I'm all yours, no questions asked!!_

Makkachin happily nuzzled his chest, and he rubbed her back in response.

"Come on then! I'm tired. There's no time to waste. We must spend as much time together as possible!"

Viktor had no idea how much this meant to his precious baby girl. This lovely girl, who was closer to him than anyone else in the whole world, carried the soul of true love. One might say she carried the soul of you, his first love. 

Don't ask how. 

It just happened that way.


	5. Make Up

[Yuuri x Reader]

"Close your eyes," Yuuri smiled, holding the brush in front of your eyes.

"Aaaww, you know you didn't have to," you giggled.

"Hey, I know I'm not the best, but I'm glad to."

Yuuri always promised his girlfriend that he would try to do her make-up one day. Of course, as one would suspect, he could really only learn from observation and his handful of experiences backstage before performances. Oddly enough, he was pretty fascinated when he watched you fix yourself up. He could sweetly admit that he liked you just as you were, but at the same time, there was a generosity hidden behind the art of make-up, a special message that said something like "I can give you a special version of me." Regardless of what exactly he liked about your make-up, he now had the chance to execute the same tricks on his own.

Poor baby. Yuuri's hand shook a lot when he was near you. Perhaps he was afraid to mess up, or perhaps his mind would venture...elsewhere. Still, nerves seemed to improve his skills rather than hinder them as he meticulously dotted the colors over your eyes. As previously stated, Yuuri was very observant. Much like he could memorize a skating routine, he had mastered the strokes of the brushes (even the Macs).

"Ah, thank goodness!" he breathed. "I think you're gonna like it."

He was reaching for a lipstick before looking at your face again. To him, you were beautiful, radiant…he couldn't resist what he saw. You had her eyes closed for a while, but he couldn't dive in without warning. That made him feel rather guilty.

"Oh, um….hey…" he leaned into her ear, "I'm gonna kiss you first, alright?"

You snickered a bit. So polite. Then, you touched his flushed cheek.

"Oh sure, go ahead."

Tinted and flustered, Yuuri pecked you softly before picking up the lip color again. As he touched them up, you felt his breath tickle your cheeks. You knew you were in good hands.

"Okay, you can look now."

As you picked up the mirror, you gasped at the sight. This was not the look people expected when a girl would say, "My boyfriend did it for me." The colors he picked were subtle and complementary to your coloring. His application revealed no streaks, lines or fallout. It was if he had been doing this for years!

"Yuuri!!" you cried. "It's perfect! Thanks!" you hugged him tight.

"My pleasure."

Making you smile never ceased to warm his heart.


	6. Finals Stress

[JJ x Reader]

"So is it the Independent T-Test or the Chi Square? How and why? I DON'T KNOW. MY LIFE IS A LIE!!!"

You screamed violently and hurled your materials off the desk, and you struggled intently with the urge to cry from crippling exhaustion. A few minutes ago, you spoke with your best friend of this agony, and she had you the relief of a lifetime. By this, you expected perhaps a special brand of green tea...or a cake...or a hammer to knock you out.

Boy, were you ever wrong….

_Ding dong!_

You rose from your distressed, slumped position to answer the front door. With a sigh, you opened the door...and your mouth dropped. How could you describe the sight before you? A guy, who could literally go under the descriptions tall, dark, and handsome stood at your front door, posing like he owned the joint.

"And who are you?" you inquired suspiciously, crossing your arms.

"You may just call me JJ," he flashed a devilishly handsome smile and a wink. "I'm a...friend of a friend."

"Ooooh, I see," you shuddered to think what your imp of a friend had planned. "Come in."

If only you were prepared for what awaited you in that moment. By golly, you even made the mistake of taking him to your room to find him a comfortable place to sit.

"Can I get you anything, JJ?"

"Nah, there's no need for that."

Just as you led him to a nice seat, he gently pushed you into it instead.

"Uuhhh….JJ? What's wrong?"

"Ssshh, don't worry," he dragged a finger over your lips. "I know finals are difficult, but I will melt that chilly stress away. Just you wait and see."

With a wink, all of a sudden, there went the shirt.

_Damn. Damn. Damn it all. A stripper?!_

Your friend had courage you envied.

Without even needing the music, pole, or flashy lights to back him up, JJ began removing bits and pieces of clothing little by little, rocking his body to the melody in his head.

"I can make you feel like the perfect queen for King JJ…."

"NO! DON'T! STOP! STOP IT, NOW!!"

Face redder than the blood in your veins, you fled from the fully naked JJ, completely unable to process the situation. Concealing yourself in the bathroom, you pondered the various ways you could jump onto the train of the afterlife. 

JJ stood awkwardly, probably a little cold.

"….maybe I should have brought her some bacon," he said with a laugh.

He shrugged and started getting dressed again. His work here was done.


	7. Drunk Personas

[Drunk!Phichit x Reader]

You heard a knock at the door, and immediate fear shook your entire being.

"Oh no…Phichit is back from the party…"

You could not avoid the inevitable. You opened the door wide, and there was your boyfriend, Phichit, putting on his princely air. He certainly didn't smell like one right then.

"Is this the palace of the Sultan, my dearest?" he grinned seductively.

"Yes, and I am Princess Jasmine," you sighed. You didn't want to admit that it was rather funny, as this was also the third time he had pulled this crap.

"I just left my magic carpet outside this time. Is that alright?" he slumped on the couch.

"Sure, anything's fine. I'm not picky about parking."

You raised an eyebrow as he raised a finger to seductively beckon you to him.

"You sure don't look like a prince right now," you leered, still attempting to suppress the urge to laugh.

"Hey, you already know my secret, so that's cheating."

"Whatever, you monkey."

"Come on, I thought you could trust me!!"

"I don't trust you when you drink…."

While trying to turn to another task, you felt two arms cling around your waist.

"I'm a cool, confident creature who needs a beautiful princess to take my side…"

"You're a drunk hobo who needs a bath," you corrected him.

"And you…." he leaned in to whisper, "You're the only one who I want to come with me to see the world."

Alas, your weak heart started to flutter. How did he manage to pull it off?

"…damn you, Phichit."

No matter how sloppy he got, his voice was too much for words.

"Hey," still nestled in his arms, you turned to him and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Next time you want to play Aladdin, why don't we just do karaoke? Just the two of us. No guys. No drinks. Alright?"

"Do you trust me?"

"If you promise it will be just us, I will trust you."

He hesitated before nodding slowly.

"Anything my princess says…"

"Okay, market boy. You're gonna take a bath now."

You dragged your poor wasted boyfriend to a nice hot bath to prep him for the next role-play. Hopefully, it would be more romantic and more...coherent.


	8. Two

[Yuuri x Anxious!Reader]

“You okay?” asked Yuuri as he greeted your now reddened face with a gentle smile.

He observed you as you tuned in to your body by closing your eyes and holding your breath. Arms still encircling your waist, he remained still, attempting to reduce any sensations that might distract your inward examination while making his own observations. Your spine, once stiff and tense, now bent as you relaxed into his arms. Your heart, once wreaking havoc within your thoracic cavity, now rested in its little cradle between your lungs and diaphragm. Finally, your hyperventilating morphed into a long, drawn out sigh, the warm air blowing strands of black hair from his face and slightly fogging his glasses.

Despite the razor-edged talons of panic throttling you so violently previously, a little sparkle danced in his eyes - a spark known as pride.

All too familiar was he with this dance; a passionate, vigorous tango, requiring every part of the heart, mind, and soul. It left one breathless, weak, drained, almost unable to go on, but if it demanded his attention, he complied almost immediately, leaping onto this tumultuous dance floor all over again.

After feeling so pathetic and weak, after succumbing to the claws of fear more times than he cared to keep count, seeing you suffer similar attacks, sometimes more intense than his own, distracted him from that shame.

He wasn’t alone.

He wasn’t the only one to go through this.

Instead, he used his experiences to help you through your difficult moments.

Seeing you calm down from supportive words, helping you regain your mental clarity due to his advice, seeing you smile through the tears just from him clutching your hand.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel at least a little pride in that.

Finally, you pulled away from his body just enough that you could peer up at him, eyes heavy, red, crinkled at the corners, cheeks warm and flushed, and a tired smile touched your lips. Brushing pieces of hair from your eyes then cupping your cheek with his hand, he said softly,

“You certainly look a lot better than before.”

Leaning into his touch, you managed to release a thin, whisper of a laugh.

“I feel a lot better,” you rubbed away one more tear with your thumb then flashed him a grin. “Thank you, Yuuri.”

“No problem,” he pulled you in for another hug, gently patting the back of your head. “You’ve come a long way since we first met.”

“With your help, of course,” you said, nuzzling the crook of his neck.

Feeling your hair rustle against his skin triggered a small laugh from him.

“Ah, it was nothing,” he said. “I’m just happy to help.”

Again, you separated from him, but still kept an arm linked around his own.

“Sometimes, it takes two to tango,” you replied, leading him back to the opening of the rink.

You had a good point. While battling against one’s inner demons required self-discipline and determination, having someone to cling to, to reassure, and to support made the fight so much easier.

Arms still joined, you and he set a slow easy rhythm, the blades of the skates leaving behind tiny trails of powder and ice. Yuuri watched as you closed your eyes, allowing the sensation carry your mind away from the chaos you were trapped in before. Even though you spoke no words or even looked at him, the relaxed smile on your face was enough of a reward for him, and all he wanted was to follow you to your little paradise, skating round and round, until that fear was left far behind.


End file.
